


Kyrie Eleison

by suomifae



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Blood, Gods and Demons AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, demon!plasmius - Freeform, emotional manipulation and suicidal thoughts, god!cw, it has a happy ending tho i swear, mentions of violence and gore but nothing graphic, priest!Vlad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suomifae/pseuds/suomifae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Masters is a priest with many secrets. He comes to find that after hiring a new organist for his church, one with all-knowing eyes and a charming smile, he's going to have even more secrets to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prom and i started screaming at each other about this and her art always inspires me so
> 
> btw Michael Mithra is the name prom came up with for her human!cw Mithra means hidden friend  
> and also Kyrie Eleison is part of an old church thing and means "Lord have mercy"

Father Masters smiled as he watched the children of the choir laugh and question and bicker with their new organist. He was glad to see that Mr. Mithra was a hit with all the children. He had been hesitant to hire the man, he’d been hesitant to hire _anyone_ , honestly, after their last beloved organist had passed away. She had always been a lovely player and the children had loved her so much, he had been afraid that any new addition to the church would be rejected because they couldn’t fill her shoes.

But it seemed his worries were unfounded as Mr. Mithra was now surrounded by curious and delighted children. His light green eyes were dancing in the soft sunlight pouring into the cathedral as he laughed and answered silly questions, tapping out simple melodies and hymns on the organ all the while. The children all seemed happy enough with him, even the usually surly teenagers, and it brought a smile to Father Master’s face.

There had been other, just as friendly and just as qualified applicants, but- Vlad bit his lip at the memory- Michael Mithra was the most charming and beautiful organ player he had ever heard.

When Mr. Mithra had first entered his church, short and incredibly messy white hair lit up with the colors of the stained glass window, Vlad had been prepared to dismiss him immediately. The man was just too confident, his clothing was just a tad too disheveled, his bright smile too cocky, and with that _hair_ , likely dyed, and that _scar_ running down his face, he didn’t think Mithra to be the type to want to work at a church of all places. He tried not to judge, he really did, but this man had just been so _unexpected_ that he couldn’t help it.

And then- oh Lord, and then- Michael Mithra had sat down at that organ and began to play.

He had shifted on the bench and rubbed at his hands, like he was preparing to play after a very long time of not doing so, but then he smiled back at Vlad, gentle yet pompous, as if he'd already know what was about to happen. He had drawn in a deep breath and then put his fingers to the keys.

It had started out so soft and sweet and slow, filling the mostly empty church with beautiful chords that rang out and echoed pleasantly, yet with subtle sorrowfulness. Light had illuminated the man at that moment, dazzling colors from the window lighting up his graceful and nimble fingers as they danced. The strong back of the man had shifted and swayed with the music. Vlad was struck by the beauty of both the music and the player.

Vlad’s breath had caught in his throat when a slightly higher note pierced through the others, mournful and mesmerizing. Also the identifier of the composition. Mithra had sat down and played one of Vlad’s favorite pieces of music, [Ave Maria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzMo0qCklGg), and he had left the priest _stunned_.

Vlad had been absolutely _captivated_ by the music, he’d never heard his favorite song played so _beautifully_ before, so full of emotion and expression. He didn’t think he blinked, he didn’t think he even _breathed_ , throughout the whole thing, just sitting there with his hands folded limply in his lap and eyes blown wide.

When the song had come to an end and Mithra had turned, bright smile on his lips and eyes twinkling like they _knew_ , he hadn’t even known what to say. There was something about the organist, something about the way he played, that absolutely ensnared him. Fascinated him. And for some reason, also set him at peace like nothing else had ever done; just with his presence, just with his playing.

He had given Mithra a small smile and congratulated him. He had the job.

That had been a week prior and Vlad was very happy not to regret his decision.

 _‘Might you have a sinful little crush, my priest?_ ’ a voice, deep and raspy and evil, whispered in the back of his mind.

Vlad scowled and turned his back to the others.

 _‘I don’t have ridiculous things like crushes_ ’, he thought back with a snap, ‘ _and **you** are supposed to be silent_.’

The demon trapped within him laughed, husky and mocking, ‘ _You can’t keep me down for long, little holy man. You know it never works_.’

His scowl deepened.

“Father Masters?” a hesitant hand touched his arm, bringing his attention back to his surroundings. He shook his head, trying in vain to rid his mind of the pesky demon, before turning and giving the young teen at his side a smile.

“Yes, Daniel?”

Danny hadn’t been a part of their choir or their church for very long, having been a member of his dad’s, Father Fenton, church before the man had had to leave on exorcist business for a few months. Father Fenton had been a very good friend of Vlad’s back in the day when they trained to become priests together, so he had been happy to take in all of Jack’s followers at his own church until the man returned. It had been a hassle for most of them to travel a bit farther away than usual to reach Vlad’s cathedral, but the devout always found a way.

Danny himself was shy yet exuberant, one of the kindest children Vlad had ever known, always smiling and always willing to help. Vlad would be sad to see him go when his father returned.

The boy tilted his head, black eyebrows pinched over bright blue eyes, “Um,” he paused before saying slowly, “we’re done with practice… We were just waiting on your say to leave…”

“Oh!” Vlad said, surprised to turn and find everyone casually milling about with quite a few of the children giving him impatient stares. His eyes flickered over to Mr. Mithra and found the man giving him a concerned look, a hint of sadness also lurking beneath, which confused Vlad to no end.

“Yes, yes,” he gave a slightly strained smile to them all before clapping his hands together with finality. “I’m glad you all got along with Mr. Mithra. Today’s practice sounded lovely as well and I’m very proud of all of you.”

He inclined his head towards the organist, “Thank you Mr. Mithra.”

He waved a nonchalant hand and smiled warmly back a t the priest, “Think nothing of it, Father Masters. But I must thank _you_ , for giving me this wonderful opportunity.”

“You’re quite welcome,” he turned back to the waiting young choir with a small and very genuine smile. “You’re all free to leave now if you wish. I’m sure your parents would appreciate having you back so you all may leave.”

There was an excited rush as the children filed out of the church, talking and laughing amongst themselves with the occasional “Thank you, Mr. Mithra” and “Goodbye, Father Masters” tossed back to the two adults.

A hand settled on his shoulder, startling Vlad somewhat, as he turned to face the only other person left in the main room of the church.

Mithra’s eyes were solemn and concerned and far too close, “Are you alright, Father?”

“Ah, yes,” he coughed and pulled back a bit, putting some distance between himself and those very deep and very green eyes. He didn’t shake off the warm hand on his shoulder, though. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“Yes,” he said, sounding disappointed for some unfathomable reason, “of course.” Mithra pulled his had away from Vlad’s shoulder and he briefly regretted the loss. “I suppose I should take my leave now, since practice is over…” he trailed off a little awkwardly, looking to Vlad in question.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Vlad nodded quickly, nervously, and shuffled his feet in place, his hands clasped tightly in in front of him.

Mithra heaved a sigh before gathering his things; a nice black double-breasted pea coat he slipped over his shoulders in one smooth motion, a slightly worn looking briefcase filled to the brim, it seemed, with sheet music that he picked up from the stand above the organ, a curiously old-looking silver pocket watch that he flipped open to check before placing it back in his coat pocket, and one very long and deep purple scarf that he wrapped around his neck.

Mithra walked to the grand wooden doors of the cathedral and Vlad followed. Both of their footsteps echoing on the stone floor, just slightly out of sync.

The priest held the door open for the organist, who paused in the entry, “Goodbye…” he paused with a small frown on his face, hesitating for some reason, “Father Masters.”

Vlad gave him a genial smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’ll see you Sunday, Mr. Mithra.”

“Of course,” and with that he gave Vlad a sweet and melancholic smile, eyes sad and deep and _knowing_ and so very, very green. The two smiles reflected the other before Mithra ducked out of the room and left Vlad standing alone in the cathedral.

Alone with nothing but his thoughts.

‘ _I don’t like him_ ,’ the demon grumbled in a raspy growl, his annoyance and suspicion curling in the edges of Vlad’s mind.

“Good,” Vlad spat aloud in vehemence as he slammed the doors shut and spun back around to stalk further into his church.

If the demon didn’t like him then Vlad was positively _thrilled_ to have the other man around, no matter how nervous it also made him.

He was beginning to like Mr. Mithra a tad more than he likely should.

But it was no matter, he needed to acquire more binding seals to keep the wretched devil trapped within him _quiet_ before he could worry about anything else.

He tugged at the collar of his robes as he headed towards the back where he kept a quick change of clothes in case of emergencies. This needed to be taken care of as soon as possible so there would be no way for Plasmius, the demon lurking within his mind, to escape and wreak havoc in his body like he had done before.

He changed with gritted teeth as Plasmius mocked and laughed at his efforts, wanting to get rid of the snarky voice already (even if he knew, he knew, the demon would be back no matter how many times he tried to seal it away).

When he was done he exited the church and slammed the doors of the cathedral shut with a resounding finality.

He ignored it and headed towards the nearest tattoo parlor. The owner of which was already well acquainted with the Father and knew what he would need.

He was going to trap this demon for good, even if it killed him.

Plasmius gave a rumbling chuckle, _‘If you **did** die trying, my pet preacher, I’d just be set free, you know_.’

‘ _I know_ ,’ he thought back firmly, resolutely, and murmured the words he had said so many years before, when the demon had first wormed its way into his mind during an exorcism gone wrong during training.

“But, I’ll become your _prison_ , just like you’ve become mine.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been listening non stop to organ music while writing this help

Vlad tugged at the collar of his robes, the newest tattoo imprinted into his skin was burning and irritated, and not in any way that might usually be associated with new ink, and the stiff collar around his neck wasn’t helping any. Plasmius, though silent now, was trying to break down the seal with every ounce of power he had. And considering how many seals were carved into the priest’s skin just to keep the demon contained… that was quite a bit of power being thrown into it. It made Vlad’s skin crawl. Sometimes literally.

Father Masters greeted everyone attending church with his usual amiable smile, looking every bit the kindly saint he was supposed to be (and perhaps had once been, so long ago). No one got close enough to see that the lines around his eyes were a bit too strained or that his lips were stretched just a bit too far. He hid his hands, clasped behind his back in his normal proper posture, so that no one could see that his knuckles were white with tension.

He hid his demons well.

Even when they were rippling just under the surface, a frenzied force within his mind. He could almost _hear_ Plasmius’s snarls as he clawed at his new shackles, but Vlad would _never_ let him free again. The consequences were far too dire. He would keep his calm façade and make it through the day.

He felt a growl stick in the back of his throat, a rather violent reaction courtesy of the demon, when a gentle hand landed on his shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly before slipping away as he turned to face the person.

Of course it would be a very concerned looking Michael Mithra. If he hadn’t been struggling against the sudden outrage of the demon he likely would have had to fight a blush instead (something wholly inappropriate as he was _far_ too old to be acting like a silly schoolgirl in front of a _crush_ of all things) because Mithra looked stunning with the soft colors of the stained glass window reflecting off his hair and his bright green eyes focusing on Vlad just a _bit_ too closely, a bit too intensely.

And then Mithra gave him a small smile and Vlad had to look away, he was becoming utterly _infatuated_ with this man and it needed to stop. He couldn’t handle something like this, there were so many things wrong with it, the popular catholic view on homosexuality being the _least_ of his worries here (he’d long ago kicked those beliefs aside as they had no place in his sermons and he would not stand for them considering his own… inclinations).

“Good morning, Father Masters,” Mithra greeted him calmly, his voice low and smooth with just a hint of a lisp and Vlad was fairly sure Plasmius was laughing at him for the way his heartbeat sped up the slightest bit.

“Good morning, Mr. Mithra,” Vlad greeted in return, trying to reign in his enthusiasm and nerves, “it’s a pleasure to see you today.”

“Please, call me Michael,” the organist gave a wider smile, eyes twinkling in the early sunlight before they became lidded and his smile turned sly, “And the pleasure is all mine, Father.”

Vlad’s eyes widened and he nearly took a step back, the sudden purr in the other man’s voice making him want to run for some odd reason, before he drew a deep breath through his nose and tried to control himself.

He coughed into a fist and tugged at the collar of his robes again, “Ah, yes, well-,” he was doing an excellent job of recovering and he was very good at interacting with Mithra- _Michael_ , in a normal fashion, yes indeed. His eyes darted away, looking for an escape.

“S-service should start soon, I really must be on my way,” his words ran together slightly but he didn’t care, he just needed to _leave,_ he was so embarrassed. He did have time to give the organist a polite and slightly wavering “M-Michael,” in parting before he scurried off to start his sermon.

The day went rather well, especially with the usual snarky commentary from a certain demon being silenced for once, so he was free to enjoy his sermon and interacting with all the people of his church. Even if there was a constant, underlying sensation of his mind being ripped to shreds and what felt like a rampage going on just under his skin. His muscles were tense the whole time, twitching occasionally with the force of Plasmius’s power, but he was able to hold an easier smile and keep up with everything and everyone.

His sermon began and ended, a pleased smile on his lips the entire time. Mithra- _Michael,_ played the organ beautifully as the choir sang their hymns, the children standing tall and proud as they let their hard work shine through in their singing. Vlad was able to lose himself in the deep and lulling notes of the organ as they resonated throughout the cathedral, and then in the angelic voices that rose into the rafters and called out to the almighty himself.

The rest of the service went about as they usually do, uneventful and peaceful. As it neared its end people congregated and talked amongst themselves, cheer and blessings being traded here and there. Vlad joined them with a subtle yet no less enthusiastic joy. This was one of his favorite parts of Sundays.

Jeanette and her husband were going to be meeting the child they planned to adopt later today and Vlad congratulated them sincerely. Marie was having a tough time with her chronic illness and he consoled her and sent up a genuine prayer for her. Damon and his daughter Valerie were doing alright, even with the anniversary of his wife’s death approaching, he told them he was proud. Maurice was looking well and Vlad was happy to tell him so, earning a toothy grin from the older and usually frail man. Dash, a generally brash and confident young man, was distressed over his beloved dog running away and Vlad gave him his heartfelt condolences. Betty, the spry old minx, tried to flirt with him as she chatted about her newest and most adorable grandniece, he laughed it off good-naturedly and congratulated her on the addition to her family.

He made sure to meet with every person in his church for a small chat; to make sure they were well, to make sure they felt welcome in his church, happy and secure here. A church should be a place to feel comfortable and loved in, where one could find comfort in their faith. It was a duty he took very seriously and also enjoyed immensely. He felt connected with every person in his church, like a very loose and very rambunctious family. (It almost made up for the lack of his own. _Almost_.)

It made him think back to the days before he became a priest, before he’d even _thought_ about becoming a priest. He’d been on a very rough road, filled with alcohol and abandonment issues. He’d made some very, very poor decisions in his youth, spurned by bullying and family issues and a lack of care for anything in the world. At least before two very enthusiastic people, his dear friends Jack and Maddie, had barged into his life like a happy freight train.

He’d been lying in an alleyway, drunk and homeless, when Maddie had first come across him. He was still ashamed to this day that she had seen him in such a state, but she became his saving grace in that moment (an angel sent from God to pull him from the gutter and set him on his rightful path) and he didn’t regret it. Jack had also been a great support, always patient, always kind and exuberant as only Jack Fenton could be.

He and Jack had decided to become priests together even, ones that specialized in exorcisms, as all three of them shared a fascination with demons. Ultimately, it had been both his redemption and his downfall.

He tried not to blame Jack for the accident, he really did, but the bitterness still rose up in him (still strong and corrosive) especially on nights when Plasmius was feeling particularly spiteful and loud. Jack didn’t even know what happened, and he planned to keep it that way. He was Father Fenton now, looked down upon by others for his occupation as an exorcist because obviously demons didn’t exist in reality, people would titter and shake their heads at the man. (Oh if only they _knew_.)

But all of that was neither here nor there as he still had to deal with the consequences and do everything in his power to keep the wretched monster within him contained. A slip in his control wouldn’t be Jack’s fault after all.

It was nearing the end of service when Vlad felt a shiver, cold and disastrous, run down his spine. His breath caught in fear, as small gasp leaving him as he felt Plasmius rip through the shackles that kept him quiet within his mind. A raspy, mirthless chuckle soon followed the horrible sensation and Vlad was very much afraid.

‘ _I **told** you so, little priest. I’m too powerful for your silly tricks. You can’t keep me down for long_.’

Vlad’s hands trembled and he closed his eyes in concentration, shaking off the dread that filled him, Plasmius had merely broken the newest seal, the one that was supposed to keep his mouth shut. That was the _only_ one he'd broken. It had been a hasty and shoddy job anyway, so it was nothing to truly worry about. Plasmius was still trapped. He took a deep breath and continued saying goodbye to the last of the congregation.

Apparently not the _very_ last, however, as he felt a familiar hand brush against his shoulder before it dropped away.

“Michael,” he said warmly, concerns about the demon now growling in the back of his head dropping away as he turned to face the man in question, “your playing was lovely today.”

“Father,” Michael return the greeting and the smile. “Thank you, your words today were lovely as well. I enjoy your sermons very much.”

“You’re too kind,” Vlad had to look away from the man’s gaze as his pride swelled with the praise. It was such a tiny thing, but it made his heart race. “Also…” he trailed off, unsure and slightly giddy for some reason, “you may use my first name, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” Michael said as his smile widened before he purred out his name in a manner that should honestly never be done inside a church, “Vladimir.”

Vlad’s brain short circuited for a moment and he could very much feel a flustered blush on his cheeks. Oh my, this might not have been his best decision. He both immediately regretted it and at the same time very much did _not_. His mouth went dry and he was about to stutter out some semblance of a response before things went very, very wrong.

He felt the surge of power from Plasmius but could do nothing to counter it, the demon laughed and growled at the same time as his vision went black.

He’d lost control. He’d lost control and Plasmius was loose, the demon had control of his body now. Plasmius had control of his body and _Michael_ was there.

Fear shot through him sharp and all encompassing. He couldn’t feel anything else. He didn’t even know what was going on, what would happen. He wouldn’t remember anything Plasmius did and he sent out a desperate prayer that it wouldn’t regain consciousness to the worst possible scenario. Not like he had the first times. Never like those first few times. He would have to wait, fear his only companion, for Plasmius to have his fill of fun before he could assess the damage.

It was a surprisingly short amount of time later that Vlad found himself aware of his surroundings again. A sharp stinging on his cheek was the first thing he noticed and he panicked as he tried to gather the rest of his bearings to find out _why_.

The second thing he noticed, and it broke his heart to see, was Micheal stalking away from him, obviously angry and upset. Plasmius must have said or done something absolutely dreadful to cause this.

But at least he was _okay_. At least he was alive and well. He wasn't bleeding out in his hands as he clutched at the fabric of- He didn't let himself finish those thoughts.

Guilt, immense and heavy, settled on his shoulders along with the relief. Michael- Mithra, he supposed he should go back to saying already, seemed to be fine but he would also likely never speak to Vlad again.

Mithra's back was taught and his fists clenched, Vlad observed as watched the man leave. He idly rubbed at his cheek, still in shock, still not willing to fully process what had happened, and also not willing to stop the man as he wouldn’t even know where to _begin_ to fix this. His shoulders slumped in despair as he realized that Mithra was _very_ angry and he was angry at _him_. He didn’t know about Plasmius (how could Vlad ever tell another soul about the demon he hosted?) and so whatever the demon had done to the man fell on _his_ shoulders, fell to him for blame. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Plasmius was strangely quiet the whole time, not even mocking Vlad for his loss and confusion and turmoil. Silent and meek.

The door to the cathedral slammed shut with a bang and made Vlad wince.

He heaved a deep and shuddering sigh. He’d probably have to look for a new organ player and the thought made him sadder than he had ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All my life I've been so lonely, All in the name of being holy." - Buy the Stars


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things go from bad to worse 
> 
> (please check the new tags bc things get bAD and i wanna let yall know what youre gettin inta)

Father Masters was very near to having a complete breakdown.

It was Sunday again and he had yet to find another organ player after he had somehow caused Mithra to storm out of the church the last time. The man hadn’t shown up since, a fact which Vlad had fully anticipated, yet it still caused a heavy sadness and disappointment to settle in his gut. He still held out hope the man might return as while he hadn’t shown up, he hadn’t officially _resigned_ either. Which was why Vlad was fretting and trying to postpone the hiring process _again_.

That, and he didn’t feel in control enough to face people in an isolated setting. He barely felt in control enough to face all church-goers before him and if he could have avoided this he could have. But it was Sunday and he had a service to preside over, no matter how his hands shook and his body convulsed in cold chills. He had an unnatural fever too, spiking whenever Plasmius felt particularly amused by his plight or was impatient enough to strike out against the seals with sheer power.

Plasmius was growing stronger and Vlad was on the brink of panicking about it.

The demon had been a ball of seething rage in the back of his mind after whatever encounter he had had with Mithra and Vlad was afraid. He didn’t know what happened, only that the two of them had pissed each other off royally. Mithra had left and Plasmius… He was angry, but he also seemed _wary_ , and he slunk around like a scolded child, grumbling incoherent things into Vlad’s ear and building up his power. Like he was trying to break out before Mithra could return, almost like he _feared_ the usually friendly organ player.

It confused Vlad to no end and left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach to swirl around with the anxiety and fear already churning up a storm.

Everything on his body _burned_ ; the tattoos that littered his skin, the clothes that seemed to wrap far too tightly around him, the rosary around his neck, _everything_. He knew it was Plasmius’s fault and his breathing was just a tad bit more labored at the thought, because the demon had never been _this_ close to breaking loose before. He worried he wouldn’t have time to… do something about it before the day was out. His greatest fear was the demon taking over with a church full of innocents laid out like a buffet. It would be a bloodbath, and the thought made him sick because it would be solely _his_ fault if it came down to that.

He would resist the devil for as long and as hard as he could, he would _not_ go down without a fight and despite his too-kind heart he was a very determined and stubborn man. He would grit his teeth and hold his chin high, Vladimir Masters had far too much pride and obstinance to ever let a demon get the better of him.

 So he smiled a pleasant (and very strained) smile and greeted everyone as warmly as he could, his hands clenched tightly behind his back to hide his tremors and sweat dripping down his neck.

Curious whispers swept through the cathedral and eyes filled with concern and curiosity burned him with their gaze. He didn’t know how long he could stand this when Plasmius was so close to the edge, but he couldn’t warn them off, he couldn’t scare them like that when they likely wouldn’t believe him anyway. But he also couldn’t let them die.

‘ _You’re **weak** , oh holy man_,’ the dark voice crooned to him as he tried to begin his sermon for the day, ‘ _and I’ll break you down, little by little, until you **want** to succumb to me_.’

For the very first time since the beginning of his priesthood, Father Masters stumbled with his words; his voice wavered slightly and he stuttered over a verse.

Uneasy murmurings from the congregation started up again, rising like the waters of a deadly flood, but Vlad continued on as valiantly as he could.

‘ _So desperate to be a good man_ ,’ Plasmius simpered with mock-pity, ‘ _but the poor little priest just can’t do **anything** right. He wants to be good and holy but he knows that’s **never** going to happen_.’

Vlad ignored the whispers, they were nothing he hadn’t heard before. He clenched his fists harder, he kept his chin raised high, and above all, he continued his sermon as quickly as possible without jumbling his words again. He didn’t want to have to waste time placating any concerned church members that would want to corner him afterwards. It would be hell enough trying to get them to leave as it was already.

‘ _It’s because you know, deep down, that you’re an **awful** person_,’ the demon continued in a lazy drawl, ‘ _that you don’t deserve to be called a man of virtue, that you don’t deserve the people of the church who look up to you, and most of all that you don’t deserve **anything**._ ’

‘ _Stop it_ ,’ Vlad bit back harshly as he paused after a verse in the guise of gathering his thoughts. He quickly picked back up afterwards, hoping the need to focus on his words would drown out the insidious doubt starting to worm its way into his heart.

Plasmius laughed, low and sinister, at his attempts to shake the demon off, ‘ _You’re pathetic, holy man. You’re weak and just as guilty of sin as the **worst** of them. You’re a liar too_.’

Vlad painted on a pleasant smile as he finally brought the service to its end. His legs were shaking and his knuckles were white as he went through the motions for the rest of the service. All the while, the whispering hadn’t stopped.

They whispered about Vlad and how he looked awful today and was he alright? They whispered about his sermon and how he had never ever tripped up like that before and what could be wrong with him? They whispered about Mithra and where on earth the man could be, perhaps he was sick as Father Masters seemed to be?

‘ _You tell these people that you’re a man of God, you lead them to believe that you’re just **filled to the brim** with virtue_ ,’ the demon purred as everyone began to mingle before they left, some already making their way to Vlad with concern in their eyes, ‘ _but really you’re just a dirty rotten **LIAR**_.’

Vlad fielded their questions with trembling hands and a hoarse voice, everything was starting to pile up too quickly. Mithra was gone (and it was all his _fault_ , and he wasn’t coming _back_ ), Plasmius was trying to wreak havoc, he had to fight the gnawing fear that the binding seals just weren’t _working_ anymore, and there were too many people, too many words, too many _doubts_.

‘ _This mess you’re in is all **your fault**_ ,’ the demon crowed, picking up on his insecurities. ‘ _Everyone is going to **abandon** you, little priest, because you’re at fault, you’re a liar, and you just aren’t **WORTHY**_.’

Vlad whimpered softly at both the words and the surge of power that pulsed through him like fire. Plasmius was growing stronger by the second and Vlad was terrified. He could barely concentrate on anything, the poisonous words now taking forefront in his mind. People went by in a blur before they left.

“Father Masters?” a small voice pierced the fog starting to take him over. It was the son of his dear friends, looking hesitant and concerned.

“Yes, Daniel?” he was able to say calmly even with the slightly warbling pitch. He clenched his fists even harder behind his back, his nails surely drawing blood from his palms at this point. He smiled over clenched teeth.

“Um, well,” the boy fumbled with his words, hand rubbing at the back of his neck before he looked away from Vlad, “My dad gets back later today and he told me to tell you he was going to drop by when he could…”

“That sounds lovely,” Vlad murmured, not quite thinking straight as he tried to control another full body tremor and flash of heat, “thank you for telling me. I’ll see you at a later time now, goodbye Daniel.”

He gently pushed Danny towards the door in a bid to get him, and everyone else, to leave as soon as possible.

Danny gave him a curious look but shrugged it off, if Father Masters felt like acting strangely then there was nothing he could really do about it anyway. He threw a quick, “See ya, Father,” over his shoulder before he left.

Vlad felt a weight settle on his chest as his skin continued to burn, his breathing was starting to come in short gasps and the churning in his stomach turned into a block of ice. He was trembling so hard at this point he could barely stand. He fell to his knees in relief when the last of the congregation disappeared behind the doors that slammed shut with an echoing bang.

Vlad clutched his heart and whimpered after one last, excruciating, surge of heat flooded his system and seared his bones and lungs and skin.

Everything went black and the last thing he was conscious of was Plasmius’s crazed laughter.

* * *

Vlad regained his senses while shaking and covered in blood.

He stared long and hard at his hands, trying his hardest to believe it was something else that stained them red. That something else, _anything_ else, had happened while he was passed out. But the sharp metallic scent that invaded his nose was too telling.

He needed to concentrate on other things; where he was, how long it’d been, whether or not this blood was his own.

His eyes were wide and his heart was beating far too fast. He didn’t know why Plasmius had retreated within him and he’d gained back control but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He lowered his trembling hands slowly but refused to look at anything else in the room.

He knew where he was, which was a blessing in its own right, as it meant Plasmius hadn’t gone too far and caused too much damage. He was still in the cathedral. The front room, he could tell from the stone tile and the faded colored light still filtering through the stained glass windows. It spilled over the floor and cast an eerie glow on the growing pool of blood. By the softness of the light Vlad could guess that it was likely just later in the evening, which meant that only a few hours had passed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he faced the inevitable. His breathing was still coming in sharp and ragged pants, his heartbeat picking up to impossible speeds. He lifted his gaze from the floor and turned his head to the source of the blood. He had no wounds himself… So it had to be somebody else’s. But _whose_? And- And were they even still _alive_?

Vlad’s breathing stopped completely and he felt like throwing up as took in the gruesome scene laid out before him.

It was Jack. Father Fenton. His _friend_.

Danny _had_ mentioned his father had intended to visit…

Plasmius was whispering in his ear again, sounding weak yet immensely pleased, ‘ _Your friend there is **dead** and guess who’s fault it is, mister holy man._ ’

“Shut up,” Vlad said through the tears now streaming down his face, his voice came out high and pleading, desperate. “I-I wasn’t the one in control here.”

‘ _It’s **YOUR** fault, little priest!_ ’ Plasmius laughed sardonically, ‘ _Because it certainly wasn’t **my** hand that ripped that man’s heart **right out of his chest**._ ’

“Shut up!” Vlad screamed, bloody hands coming up to clutch at his ears and cover his eyes.

‘ _IT WAS **YOURS**!_ ’

Vlad started rocking in place on the cold stone floor, hands still shaking as they clawed at his face. His greatest fears at come to fruition in the worst possible way.

“SHUT UP!”

Jack was dead. Jack Fenton was dead in his church. His body was _right there_. His heart was lying a few feet away from it. Father Jack Fenton was _dead_.

‘ _YOUR FAULT, YOUR LIES, YOUR **SIN**_.’

Vlad was already to the point of breaking and the voice chanting out his fears and sins didn’t help. Maybe he was already broken.

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! BE _QUIET!_ ”

He couldn’t look at the blood anymore, he couldn’t stand to be here anymore, he couldn’t handle the demon’s _torture_ anymore.

Then the thought came to him, his hands still shaking and tears still falling. He could end this right now, he’d thought of it so many times before but always ended up discarding the idea. But it didn’t matter anymore because Plasmius had broken all the seals already anyway so he could escape at any point he wanted. He could kill at any time and destroy anything he wanted.

But Vlad could prevent him from using _his_ body at least.

It wouldn’t take very much, he kept a pistol in the back of the church in case of emergencies…

Shakily he tried to rise to his feet, but suddenly there were hands at his shoulders, preventing him from standing, their gentle warmth making him want to collapse on the floor. Plasmius fell silent just as abruptly.

A familiar voice, with the subtlest of lisps and the most soothing of tone, softly murmured to him over the sound of his own harshly beating heart and ragged breathing.

“Your hands are not the ones that committed this crime, Vladimir. This isn’t your fault.”

Vlad wanted to cry for a completely different reason. It was Michael.

_He was back_.  


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not crying youre crying

Vlad hid his face within his hands, smearing blood across his cheeks. Why would Michael return _now_ of all times? He was a sobbing mess over a gruesome dead body, a dead body _he_ created, and he’d been about ready to end his life. He was in no position for the angel of a man to see him, especially after their last meeting. He was in no position for _anyone_ to see him, _or_ Jack Fenton still sprawled across the floor in a macabre twist of limbs and an exposed ribcage.

Why had Michael even come back at all?

Vlad was worthless, a pitiful excuse for a priest. He was guilty of so many sins, he was a _killer_. He was _weak_. Everything was _his fault_. He didn’t deserve to even _know_ someone like Michael, let alone be in his presence. Vlad was a monster, a _demon_ , a liar, and Michael- well, Michael was kind and pleasant and beautiful and could play the organ like an angel. There was no comparison.

“Please look at me, Vladimir,” a soft voice called out to him and the hands that had been on his shoulders soothed a path from his shoulders to his neck to Vlad’s own hands still covering his face. Vlad tensed and curled his fingers over his eyes, but let the oh so gentle and oh so soft hands pull them away anyway, they cradled his hands in a way that made his heart ache in a new way.

Vlad kept his back to the man out of fear and guilt.

Michael was standing over him from behind, arms surrounding him and hands still grasping his. A warm back rested against his own and Michael seemed far too close, far _far_ too close, with his face now hovering over his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Vladimir. It is _not_ your fault,” the low voice murmuring in his ear sounded so resolute, so sure and convinced. Vlad inhaled sharply at the sound of it, eyes going wide before he squeezed them shut. He refused to look at the man; he couldn’t, not after what he had done.

“ _Look_ at me, Vladimir Masters!” the man growled, the first time Vlad had heard him so angry, before he released Vlad’s hands and spun him around by the shoulders. His grip was strong and firm but his voice softened again, “Look.”

So Vlad opened his eyes, tentatively, slowly. He kept them focused on the ground, on his hands, working up the courage to look at the other man. He would only do it because he asked, because he commanded, not because he deserved to look and not because he was desperate to be forgiven.

When he finally looked up and locked gazes with Michael he froze, completely stunned.

His breathing hitched and his heart nearly stopped. Was this even Michael Mithra? Was this even a _man,_ in the human sense?

He looked like a God.

He was shrouded in a purple cloak, covering his now blue skin and still white hair. His eyes were completely red and filled with a concern that Vlad would rather not think about, that recognizable scar still ran down the side of his face; it was the main thing that allowed him to recognize this ethereal being as Mithra. But what really set him apart from a mere mortal, what really brought Vlad to a state of astounded awe, was the aura of golden light surrounding the man. It was beautiful, it was unearthly, it was radiant, and it was far too resplendent to even put to words.

Vlad bowed his head and prayed, his hands trembling as they clutched at his rosary and he pressed them against his forehead. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass window, flaring up in a brilliant glow as he stuttered out a broken prayer.

“Who are you praying too, Vladimir?”

How could he even answer such a divine being? What was there to say? He took a steadying breath, hands pressing harder into his forehead and knees beginning to ache from where they pressed against the cold stone floor. He managed to force out a strangled whisper, sad and despondent, “Anyone that will listen…”

“…I’m listening, Vlad.” A hand, so warm and gentle and far too kind, cupped his face and stroked his cheek. The tenderness of the touch and the encouraging sincerity he found in those scarlet eyes brought forth a sob from deep within his chest. “So don’t give up on me.”

The floodgates within him opened and Vlad nearly collapsed from the force of his chest heaving with the gasping sobs now wracking his frame. He was broken, laying in pieces before this God that had surely come to punish him, _surely_ because he was not a man that deserved the kindness of _any_ God, especially this one.

He could feel Mithra, this heavenly being, move closer as the gentle warmth from his golden aura enveloped him. It was a lazy and deeply comforting sort of heat, tingling and all-encompassing, the type that would make you shiver before you melted, like a sweater fresh out of the dryer or a hot drink on a cold night. It was the type of warmth that seeped deep into your bones and filled you up, the type that could cure any ache; it was familiar and perfect and nostalgic like a slow summer day.

Vlad shook from the feeling of it and he clenched his eyes shut again, whimpering.

“Let me absolve you of your sins,” the God whispered as his lips brushed against Vlad’s eyelids with a butterfly kiss, a show of forgiveness and care that made Vlad’s breath catch in his throat, “for in _my_ eyes you are an innocent man, Vladimir.”

His eyes snapped open when the God pulled back, he searched the other man’s face as his hands fell to his lap and his rigid posture slumped. _Why?,_ was all he could think. Why would such a holy being even bother? Why was he here? Why _him?_

“But-,” he choked on his words, broken and bereft, “I am _not_ innocent,” his voice was raspy and harsh sounding to his ears, his tone pitiful and wretched, “I’m _not_.”

“You _are_ ,” the God said forcefully, red eyes burning with compassion and a need to make Vlad _understand_ , to make him stop _blaming_ himself. “You are,” he repeated gingerly. “It was the _demon_ ,” he spat the word, “that defiled your hands with blood. _You_ are not the one at fault for that.”

Vlad looked down and away, not being able to stand the emotion he found with his eyes, unbelievable and ardent and too much for him to bear. His mind was nothing but empty static, too emotionally drained and shocked to come up with deep thought. “The seals…” he rasped out forcefully, desperately, he wasn’t sure if he was looking for reassurance or an excuse.

“ _I_ will be your seal,” the God’s voice rang with a hint of power, echoing in a strange way inside the cathedral. He cupped Vlad’s face within his hands and lowered his head until their foreheads were touching, his crimson eyes hidden as they closed. Vlad stopped breathing at the contact, his eyes wide. He wanted to close them against the sheer brightness of the golden halo that now surrounded him, but found he couldn’t look away.

“ _I_ will heal your wounds,” the God kissed his cheek in a feather-light brush. “ _I_ will be your absolution,” he kissed the other, just as gently.

“Pray to _me_ , my Father and I will always answer,” his eyes opened and they found their way deep into Vlad’s soul, piercing and radiant and terrifying, “This I promise you.”

The world fell quiet. Completely still and serene and _frozen_ for a single moment, like time itself had stopped to witness this moment of condensed rapture. Everything had stopped, motionless and soundless, and most importantly, so had _Plasmius_.

He could feel the demon within him still, the power thrumming just under his skin and within his bones, but he couldn’t feel the restless shifting or hear the obnoxious muttering. It was as if the wretch had disappeared completely, leaving nothing but his power behind. He’d never had a seal this effective before. He’d never felt this _clearheaded_ before, the devil no longer clouding his mind with sharp words and ghostly claws.

He looked up at the God in awe and whispered a new and fervent prayer, “Thank you.”

He smiled at Vlad, kissing his forehead softly, “Any time.”

Vlad blushed and looked away, at a loss for words before something he had thought earlier occurred to him again. “Why _me_?”

Mithra, he supposed he would call the God for he had no other name, tilted his head to the side, “Why you?”

Vlad nodded, gaze still averted in confusion and shame. He was still wracked with guilt, even if it was mixed with the relief that came from beridding himself of the toxic demon, and he still felt worthless in front of this all-powerful man.

“Is it so hard to believe that I simply took an interest in you?” Mithra said, not unkindly, but with pursed lips and a put-upon expression. “There is no grand destiny to fulfil or higher reason. There is no future you must play out or purpose you must serve. I am merely here to save you because that is what I think, what I _know_ , you _deserve_.”

 Vlad was stunned yet again that night, and he collapsed onto his hands as tears streamed down his face again. His gut twisted as different feelings swirled within him, confusing and strong and painful. What was he supposed to feel right now? What was he supposed to _do_? He was still guilty, still worthless, still at fault for _everything_ and yet…. And yet this God, magnificent and kind, knelt before him and held him and forgave him… and most of all, deemed him _worthy_.

He was going to pass out from the strength of the emotions running through him.

Fingers ran through his hair, softly and oh so sweetly, as another hand tilted his head up so the God could look at him with his too kind eyes and beautiful smile.

“Hush, my Father,” his voice was imbued with a gentle power and Vlad began to feel incredibly drowsy, his eyelids fluttering and his body sagging with sudden exhaustion.

“You may rest.”

And so he fell into a deep sleep, the most peaceful he had ever felt in his life. His dreams were blissful and filled with sparkling red eyes and tender smiles.

He was free.


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaa the last of it <33

Vlad smiled blissfully as he ushered the last of the congregation out of the church. It had been a fine day; a pleasant sermon, beautiful hymns, and everyone seemed to be doing well in life when he asked around. Everything just seemed so… perfect.

It was a few weeks now since… Well, since things had first gone very much downhill and then gone marvelously back up. He’d never been more thankful to a single man, or God as was actually the case, before. He’d been _saved_ that day, brought back from a dangerous precipice and into the arms, the sweet, sweet arms, of the most loving and caring being he’d ever had the fortune to meet. Michael, or Clockwork as he was also called, saved him, sealed away his demons, and seemed to heal his _soul_.

He’d been devastated when he’d first woken up, still believing the devil would burst from the seals at any moment and that his hands were still dirty with Jack’s blood…

He’d woken up screaming and crying and kicking and writhing. Until strong arms had wrapped around him and held him tight, until a voice whispered in his ear, “Everything is fine, Vladimir.”

“But Plasmius,” he’d gasped out.

“Will stay forever trapped by my will. You have nothing to fear.”

“Jack…” he’d sobbed.

“Is just fine,” Michael had whispered back, steady and firm, calming Vlad’s racing heart, “he’s in the next room resting.”

“How?”

Michael had chuckled, his warm breath had ghosted over Vlad’s neck, causing him to shiver and melt, “I _am_ a God, you know. I may not have power over the dead, but I _do_ have power over time. Which is all one really needs in this instance.”

And that had been that.

Jack was back to full health and hadn’t remembered a thing, Plasmius was sealed away for likely all of eternity, and Michael, well, he still puzzled Vlad. He was a God and yet, he seemed content enough to play the organ for his little church and laugh and sing with the children and, most confusingly, he liked to _flirt_ with Vlad and do nice things for him and comfort him and… It was overwhelming at times.

Suddenly, the first few bars of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor rang through the cathedral, grand and ominous and loud. _Duh-nun-duh…_ Vlad snorted in amusement, walking over to the organ where the cheeky pianist sat, grinning as he continued to play.

“I’m not a vampire you know.”

Michael laughed softly, “Yes, but you were looking rather grim, lost in your thoughts.”

“Was I?” Vlad questioned as he sat down on the stool beside him, their sides brushing as Michael’s fingers flew over the keys, filling the empty stone halls with a more gentle melody.

“You were,” he nodded slightly, “would you like to talk about it?”

“I-,” Vlad sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “You-,” his shoulders dropped, “I suppose I just don’t understand.”

“What has you so confused, lovely?” Michael’s grin had fallen to a more somber expression but he didn’t pause in playing, the song now smooth and lulling.

“ _That_ , for one,” Vlad said with a blush forming on his cheeks, “and why you even bother with me, to be frank.”

Michael stopped playing altogether and Vlad wrung his hands in his lap, worried at the sudden stop. Then Michael turned to face him fully, head tilted to the side as he gazed at Vlad.

“I may be a God, Vladimir,” he admonished, “but I am also a person.”

He raised a hand and gently cupped Vlad’s face, running a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “I _bother_ , as you put it, because I like you.”

“Oh,” was all Vlad could say in a breathy reply.

“Now,” Michael turned back to the organ, “are we done with all that? Self-pity doesn’t become you, Father.”

Vlad spluttered, “Excuse me?”

The God laughed, “See? That’s much better.”

“You have no right to look so handsome even when you’re teasing me,” Vlad muttered as he sulked.

“What was that, Vlad?” Michael sing-songed, voice ringing with mirth.

“I said you looked handsome,” Vlad bit out, blush heavy and eyes averted.

“Oh?” Michael stilled, sounding a little dazed. “Do you- do you really think so?”

Vlad turned to him, looking incredulous, “Yes?”

How could the man think he wasn’t handsome? That Vlad didn’t find him handsome? He was breathtaking, and sweet, and perfect in every way. He was a _God_. Literally.

And then a miracle happened, a miracle that Vlad never thought he was going to see ever. Michael Mithra, Clockwork the God of Time, was _blushing_. And he was blushing because of _Vlad_.

“Sweet Jesus have mercy,” Vlad murmured as he felt the blush on his own cheeks deepen and encompass what felt like his entire body.

Michael laughed.

It was a nice moment. A moment that set the tone for the rest of their time together (an amount of time that, as it grew longer, Vlad suspected would never end if the Master of Time could help it), soft and sweet and filled with joking quips and blushing faces. Michael would prove to never tire of teasing Vlad and showing his affection for the man as openly and as often as possible. And Vlad would prove to never tire of loving every minute of that affection and returning it as best he could.

They would live in bliss, even if it was to the ignorance of the mortals around them. Vlad’s newfound immortality (Michael thought he was sneaky but Vlad knew better) and newfound immortal lover (and didn’t _that_ send a thrill down his spine) were just more secrets he had to keep from his church, like he had kept Plasmius a secret from them before. But these? These were good secrets.

These were secrets he didn’t mind at all to keep. So long as Michael stayed by his side.

_Which_ , he would think with loving smile, _will likely be forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> you can thank prom for quite a few of the juicy lines in here 
> 
> also hint: the words Ave Maria in the fic are a link to the song played on the organ (i imagine cw would have played like that but a tad bit slower and a tad bit more dramatically)


End file.
